• We're happy, and kind.
    Then things go sour.
    You say something impolite.
    I grow crueller by the hour.
    You try to make it right.
    You say all the wrong things.
    Then we start to fight.
    The horror it brings.
    Just before I was thinking
    about how I wanted your time.
    Now I am sinking
    and writing these rhymes.
    It's so typical now.
    That you would say
    you will bring my life Hell
    every single day.
    I wouldn't say that to a pal.
    or even an enemy in fact.
    I'm a direct kind of gal,
    I don't threaten like that.
    I'm really not hurt.
    Not at this point.
    Just irritated and concerned
    about your mental state.
    You call me psycho
    but you say psycho things.
    I say how I feel.
    You say what you'll bring.
    But this has happened more than once.
    It was more painful before.
    You say the same things,
    and I must seem like a chore.
    But a chore is usually
    a part of some routine.
    But I shall be rid of this.
    It's getting fairly irritating.
    So if you ever say
    you want to be friends,
    I guess I'll be brave
    and say it's the end.